POSSIBILITIES

This planet
is a yellow school bus
climbing the morning hill,
filled with children,
papers and pencils,
possibilities, and then it passes
the senior citizen bus going the other way,
possibilities. . . .

© Andrew Costello, from

  Cries .... But Silent, 1981

DEPTH CHARGE

Somehow, I’m a submarine,
sitting all alone under the sea,
sliding along silently,
hiding deep down beneath the surface,
trying to go unnoticed,
hiding in the deep underwater of life.

Okay, I’m selfish
in this sneaky pattern of mine,
this slowly slipping away
from others – especially when
they swim too close to me,
that is, when I’m in my shallow waters.

And you there, when I’m close to you,
you might think I’m listening to you.
I’m not. I’m silently figuring out
how to slip away – not wanting
to be bothered – wanting to keep moving
to lonelier, deeper, darker waters.

Then surprise! There you are. Next to me.
It’s funny, isn’t it? Both of us doing
this same underwater maneuver down through the years,
and now we have bumped into each other
right here, right now, down deep below,
together in the all alone. Depth charge.

© Andrew Costello

SELF PORTRAIT

(Luke 18: 9-14)

All he ever does is talk,
just talk, talk, talk ...
just, talk, talk, talk about himself.

Honestly, that’s all he ever does.
He keeps on talking about himself.
It’s always, “I .... I .... I ....”

“Well, I did this.”
“Well, I did that.”
“Well, Iiiiiiiii wouldn’t say that.”

And we, the non-I’s, in his eye,
keep asking behind his back:
“Why so many ‘I’s?”

Is he blind in his I?
Doesn’t he ever see us
talking about him?

Or am I the blind one,
laughing inwardly, thanking God,
“He’s the blind one, not I?”

© Andrew Costello

WHAT IT’S

ALL ABOUT

The flowers stood tall and beautiful,
standing together in a vase,
enjoying the compliments of those
entering the room.
Then after a while,
the flowers began to fade.
Petals began falling to the floor.
In fact,
the flowers became quite nervous
till you said to them
from your bed, “All is okay.
I’ve been through this myself.
In fact, this is what it’s all about.”

© Andrew Costello

CHALK TALK

An early morning moment –
all alone,
walking down a cement sidewalk
and there in front of me
on the cement,
probably from the day before,
a child’s chalk talk –
marked stick figures,
a few faces,
a “Hello” and
a “I love you!”
and once more I blurt out in prayer,
“Lord, when am I going to
take the time,
make the time,
to see all these scribblings from you
on the sidewalks of my life? Amen.”

© Andrew Costello

WHERE WE SIT

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily is, “Where We Sit.”

One of the themes Sirach and Luke, the authors of today’s first reading and today’s gospel, want us to think about is humility.

One warning. John Selden in Table Talk – from way back in 1689 said, “Humility is a virtue all preach, none practice, and yet everyone is content to hear. The master thinks its good doctrine for his servant, the laity for the clergy, and the clergy for the laity.”

So some thoughts about humility entitled, “Where We Sit.”

TODAY’S GOSPEL

Today’s gospel has Jesus commenting about those who want the best seats at wedding banquets. He has been invited to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees – and he’s sitting there watching the show.

Where we sit – what we see – what we observe – what we learn – can provide us with a great non-degree education.

Sit back and watch.

Find a good seat in the Mall, in church, in Ego Alley in Annapolis or anywhere, and watch the show. But make sure you can laugh – especially at yourself.

And Jesus tells the story about a man who takes a front seat at a banquet. Then someone more important shows up and the host has to go up to the front of the room and whisper in the man’s ear, “I need the seat you’re sitting in for Mr. and Mrs. Moreimportant. Would you mind if I have them sit here, and you sit back there at table 732?”

And the others are watching all this. And the man – red in the face with embarrassment – and probably with some anger – stands up and crawls to the back of the room.

I don’t know about you – but at weddings, I don’t like to be up front and especially at the head table. Sometimes they put priests up there – and half the meal you’re by yourself – because the bride and the groom and the bridal party are working the room. I also like it in the back – far from the drummer and the electrical guitars.

At baseball games – front row seats are great.

Someone said, “Why is that most people want the front seat in the bus, the back seat in church and the middle of the road?”

Where do you like to sit? On your seat of course. Do you have any embarrassment stories about having to move? How many times have we heard about someone going into the wrong rest room – come out of the stall and say, “Uh oh?”

KEY INGREDIENTS OF HUMILITY

Some key ingredients of humility are humor, honestly, humidity and hospitals.

We all sweat – especially when the humidity is high.

Life can be brutally honest – so it helps to be honest. Everyone looks the same in a hospital gown. And make sure you have those strings tied. Everyone knows what the most important seat in the house is.

And if we want to make it through life, we better be able to laugh at life – its twists and turns and funny stories. We better get a grasp on humility before we hit 60 – because somewhere along the line our body starts to send out messages. “Hey, I’m hurting here. Better check it out. There might be something wrong here.”

And humility, as we all know, especially if we’re gardeners, comes from the word, “humus” – earth – and into the earth we’re going to return - eventually.

Humility is the great big message we hear every Ash Wednesday when ashes are rubbed in our face, “Remember you are dust – dirty – and into dust, earth, the humus, the ground, you shall return.”

Aging and the journey towards death can be very humbling.

LEONARD AND DOLORES

I’m in Parkview Hospital in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I’m visiting Tom, the priest I worked with for 8 ½ years before I came here to Annapolis. Tom was in nasty car accident – skidding on the ice – out of control – and ending up in the other lane as a tractor trailer hit him.

He was in the hospital for 75 days – getting out on Good Friday. Resurrection and Easter came 2 days early for him that year.

His bowels broke. He became septic. He was unconscious for a few weeks. He would have died – except for powerful drugs and great medical folks. He was on dialysis – got a temporary colostomy, etc. Hospitals can provide very humbling experiences.

I was visiting him that day. I’m at his bed in the Intensive Care Unit – and the nurse asks me to leave for about 15 minutes because they have to do some stuff and change him.

I walk outside his Intensive Care station and almost immediately meet this big farmer, who says to me, “Oh good, Dolores is ready to see you right now.” I follow Leonard – I learned his name later on. He takes me in to see his wife who like Tom is unconscious. She has at least two dozen tubes in her – and the top of her head is shaved and cut and has several white gauze bandages.

I anoint Dolores and say some prayers for her with Leonard.

I end up seeing Dolores every time I go in the see Tom. Both were in intensive care for about 3 weeks. It was touch and go for both of them. She had a brain aneurism and they operated on her.

I would see Tom and then Leonard and Dolores for 2 ½ months – and then I took Tom home.

About a year later, I get a call from Dolores and Leonard. They wanted to come and see me in Lima, Ohio. She was out of the hospital and doing well.

They came to a Saturday evening Mass and then we went out to Ryan’s restaurant afterwards.

Surprise, while sitting there enjoying this meal with this couple, I find out about that first time I met Leonard. He had called his parish priest about 40 miles above Fort Wayne. He told him the doctor said it didn’t look good for Dolores and he better call his priest or minister. The priest said, “Okay, I’ll get someone there as soon as possible for Dolores.”

Surprise! Leonard thought I was the priest his priest was sending.

Sometimes we have to sit back – to figure out or find out – and it’s years and years later - what has really happened in our life.

And when we sit back and discover things about life – we laugh, we find out many things happened by accident. Sitting back can be very humbling.

Distance is good. Distance is good for discovery. Distance is good for humility.

The guy in the parable who found himself in the back of the room at the wedding banquet - must have seen a lot more about life - once his red face faded - than he would have seen in the front of the room.

Leonard and Dolores – what a wonderful couple! And we had a wonderful meal together – celebrating Dolores return to health.

For some reason, at that meal, Leonard – this big, tall 6 foot 2 farmer, began talking about his favorite cat – named "Hemorrhoid". And as he sat there he began telling a story that brought tears to his eyes. Not sobbing tears – but those wonderful tears that show up on our face with certain movies. He said this cat constantly got himself in trouble or would disappear. But one day, in the middle of a great rain storm, he was looking out the kitchen window and saw Hemorrhoid going back and forth to their barn bringing 4 kittens out of the storm and into the barn. Hemorrhoid was bringing them one by one holding them by their neck with his teeth. And then Leonard said, “That moment changed my whole outlook about Hemorrhoid.”

I said to myself, “I have to use this story somehow, someday, in a sermon. There’s a message in there somewhere.”

I guess we have to get hemorrhoids or go through a storm with someone to find out what we’re really made of.

MEALS

Meals – sit down meals – meals when we have time to share stories about cats and hospital visits – can teach us about humility – that we are all equal – we all sit down on similar bottoms – and it’s a good sign when we forget about ourselves – when we laugh – when we cry – when we celebrate the little things of life – not trying to prove ourselves better than each other – and discover every person wants to help the little ones when they are caught in a storm.

Meals – especially family meals – can be wonderful moments of humility – when we’re all equal – when someone says the wrong thing – when corn bread gets burnt – when someone says something really funny – when we are not rushing – when we are grateful for good food and good family or friends – when we’re dressed in a T-shirt and flip flops – after a long day at work in suit and tie or uniform – and we just relax at the family table - with beans and dogs – with meatloaf and mashed potatoes – and everything tastes great – watermelon and corn on the cob and we are one with each other.

INVITATION

I’m 67 and today’s gospel always hits me. In my whole life I’ve heard only a few stories of people inviting the homeless and the blind and the lame and the poor to their family table.

I know of no parish rectory where this has been done and to be honest and humble, I don’t expect to see it – and I don’t see myself initiating the project.

We’ve all given money so others can get a good meal – and I’ve heard of times when someone went in and ate with a panhandler – and found out who the other was. From time to time I have done it with panhandlers who came to the rectory door – but only one to one. It wasn’t an invitation to our community meal.

I do know that on Monday evenings and on Wednesday afternoons here at St. Mary’s, a lot of poor folks show up for help. And we have some great volunteers who do this week after week. Praise God. They sit with them. They listen to their stories. They do a lot of helping. The folks in this parish are very generous - and our St. Vincent de Paul Society does a outstanding job – week after week – year after year.

On Monday evenings or Wednesday afternoons, I’ve opened the door to come down the corridor to wait for a couple coming in for wedding information or someone who wants to talk. The corridor is filled with poor folks. It took me a while to say to myself, “Hey stupid, these folks are like all folks." So while waiting for someone else, I begin talking to some stranger who is stuck – who is not dressed that well or what have you. I sit down there on that bench in the lobby – and chat or be with the poor.

Everyday we have opportunities to talk to the persons we meet – strangers or associates – at work or here and there. Everyday we have choices to sit with people we have never sat with before.

CONCLUSION

Surprise! We’ll hear stories about cats in the rain – and husbands and wives worrying about a spouse or a parent who is quite sick.

Surprise! We’ll find out we’re the blind and the lame, the Pharisee and the poor.

Surprise – we’ll laugh and cry about life and ourselves.

It’s good to sit down and listen to each other. It’s good to sit down with oneself.

Humility: the ability to sit down and laugh at and with oneself .... the ability to be honest with oneself .... the ability to sit down on one’s bottom – and chew on life – and its funny realities. Amen.

Sit.

DOORS

INTRODUCTION

For a homily for today, I’d like to tall about doors. I’d like to think about “Doors” – the doors of our lives.

TODAY’S GOSPEL

In today’s gospel (Luke 13: 22-30) Jesus pictures people standing outside a locked house screaming to the owner of the house, “Lord, open the door for us.” And the owner of the house for all intents and purposes says, “Get lost. I don’t know who you are and where you are coming from.” And the people outside screaming, scream, “Hey, we ate and drank with you. You taught in our streets.” And the Lord of the house repeats his answer, “I don’t know where you are from. Depart from me, you evil doers.” And they walk away wailing and grinding their teeth.

What a scary moment! What a horrible scene! Jesus is obviously trying to scare the hell out of people – so more and more of the kingdom of heaven can enter into them.

It’s not a gospel or a message I like to preach about – but we come here to church to face the gospel. We come here not just to feel good, but to feel challenged. We come here to be fed – not just with the bread of the Eucharist, but also with the bread of the word – and we need to be fed with broccoli and spinach type foods!

So some tough stuff today – and I don’t like spinach.

MEDITATION

Picturing this scene of being locked out – meditating on this scene where the Lord says he doesn’t know those outside screaming to be let in, I began to think several things about doors – especially closed doors.

What are your thoughts about doors – especially closed doors?

So the gist of my sermon – is to spend some time thinking about our experiences with doors – especially closed doors – the ones that scared us – the ones that angered us. I’ll mention a few doors that opened for us – and our lives were changed. Cookies are also good.

IRISH POSTERS

In Ireland – in Galway, Ireland, I saw a poster entitled, “The Doors of Galway.” I’ve also seen variations on the same idea in a few Irish craft and gift stores here in the states, entitled, “The Doors of Dublin.” And around here you can find a poster: “The Doors of Annapolis.”

And the posters showed lots of doors – some with pictures of folks in the doorway. I noticed especially the glossy enamel painted doors – doors that were rich dark green, dark red, dark shiny black, or deep blue or maroon, doors with bright bronze door knobs and knockers.

Isn’t that everyone’s dream: to have a dream home – with an inviting – rich looking – beautiful front door?

Does everyone have a poster hanging on the wall of their memory entitled, “The Doors of my Life.”

THE DOORS OF OUR LIFE

What are the doors of our life?

How many doors have we opened and closed in our lifetime?

How many doors have slammed in our face?

How many doors have we slammed in another’s face.

How many doors have we knocked on – or rang the bell – tried the door knob – and it was locked and nobody opened the door?

How many closed doors have we stood outside of and cried?

How many times has another driven us so crazy – kids, spouse, another, that we wanted to hide in some room – lock the door – and never come out?

Is there a door right there in front of us – that we see on a regular basis – in our deep memory? It’s the door of an opportunity we didn’t take. We didn’t knock on the door. We missed out on the opportunity for a super job or move or marriage and we didn’t knock on the door.

Is there a doctor’s office in our memory – where we’re sitting in a waiting room– and we’re waiting for the door to open – to go in and find out if we or a loved one has cancer or not – and if it’s cancer, what’s next?

Is there a boss’ office door – that we’re sitting there outside it – ten yards away from the secretary – and we’re biting our nails – and nervously running our hands through our hair – and crossing and uncrossing our legs – and then the intercom rings and the secretary then says, “The boss will see you now.” And we go in and sit there in front of the boss behind the big desk and he says, “Sorry to tell you this, but you are no longer needed around here.”

Do we have a memory of a door to a school principal’s office downstairs on the first floor of a school and we have to go down those big enormous gray stone steps to see the principal – because our teacher picked us out from a crowd – and said, “I’m sick and tired of all your nonsense. You, there, yes you. Go downstairs right now and see the principal. Immediately! You!” And with fear and trepidation, we slowly walk down to the room outside the principal’s office and there we are – a tiny kid – feeling 11 inches tall and we’re wondering what is going to happen once we are called into his or her office.

Doors? What are the doors of our life?

There are married people who have closed bedroom doors to each other and closed doors of communication to each other. There are friends and neighbors and brothers and sisters or other family members who used to have a welcome mat at their front door for us – and they took it in. There are people we know who used to have an “Open” sign on the door of their face, but they opened their front door one day – without us knowing why and a hand snook out – just a quick hand – and it turned that sign around to “Closed” – and we don’t know why – and their face no longer has the smile for us their face used to have.

Doors? What are our experiences with doors in our life?

And do we also see all the going up the steps to grandparents’ homes for Thanksgiving dinners – trips to see cousins – all the wonderful meals we’ve had with friends all through the years?

Do we think of the wonderful opportunities we have had in our life – the doors that opened for us – the people who helped us get to where we got?

Do we think of the closed doors – education wise – job wise – opportunity wise – that our parents or grandparents or great grandparents had to face – and we didn’t.

Doors? What have been the doors of our lives?

THE DOOR OF DEATH

The doors I mentioned so far are doors here. There are also the doors that lead to the hereafter.

I said this is tough stuff and it’s a hot day.

The big door we all have to face is the door of death. Am I willing to open the door of my mind to the reality of my death? I heard a psychologist on Oprah the other day, while doing my half hour on the treadmill, say, “Some people say, ‘If I die.’” He then said, “It’s not, ‘If I die.’ It’s ‘When I die.’”

Obviously, we are all living longer – and obviously we have a call to exercise, stay healthy and eat right and do our best to live a long and fruitful life.

We are going through the Gospel of Luke this year – and one of the key items in today’s Gospel from Luke is that Jesus is heading for Jerusalem.

He is heading to Jerusalem to challenge his religious leaders face to face – and he is going to go face to face with death.

Tough stuff.

JUDGMENT

And after death is judgment.

And today’s gospel has the very scary question: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”

So many preachers answer that question by talking about belief – that we’ll be saved if we say the right thing – if we have the right theology.

Of course, we want to have the best theology that our minds and churches can formulate. But that theology better include more than our minds. Our hearts better be open to each other. Our hands and feet better get moving to be with, care for, eat with, talk with and love one another.

[We need orthodoxy and orthopraxis - right teaching and right practice - a consistent life ethic - that has been worked out and proclaimed as the way, the truth and the life for community.]

The Gospel of Luke is very strong on doing the correct deeds – caring for our brother and sister in need. Re-read today’s gospel a few times – and then read the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37); or the story of the Man with the Full Barns (Luke 12:16-21); or the story of the Fig Tree that wasn’t producing (Luke 13:6-9). If you don’t accept Luke on what we’re going to be judged on, visit Matthew 25: 31-46.

Our religion, our religions, too often are putting people in heaven or hell – receiving or not receiving salvation - based on ideological formulas – and not seeing Jesus' call to care for one’s brothers and sisters in need.

I know I don’t do enough and I’m scared about that.

The Gospel of Luke is very strong on the theme of knocking on the door of God’s house and asking for entry.

And a key message and challenge from Jesus in the Gospel of Luke is whether I open my door each day and see people – other than myself.

Father John Lavin – here at St. Mary’s – has almost finished his book, Noticing Lazarus at our Door. His key metaphor is the story in the gospel of Luke about the rich man going out his door each day and never seeing the poor man named Lazarus sitting there starving. And both die. One ends up in heaven and the other in hell – and Jesus told that story to scare the hell out of us – and to get us to notice and care for others – right around us. (Cf. Luke 16:19-31)

Let’s be honest, we don’t like to be reminded to see people around us whom we don’t want to see around us – people who need our notice, love and care. People can be very inconvenient.

I was brought up in Brooklyn N.Y. within eye shot of the Statue of Liberty. I have parents with 4th grade educations who came to this country with English as their second language. They came here to work hard jobs. They welcomed the opportunity to go through open gates and start a new life – maybe not for them – but at least for their children.

Isn’t that the American dream? Isn’t that what Emma Lazarus (1849-1887), notice the name “Lazarus”, wrote in her poem that stands there at the base of the Statue of Liberty,

“Give me your tired, your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to be free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

Doesn’t that sound like all the people that Isaiah talks about in today’s first reading (Isaiah 66: 18-21) – the gathering of people of every language – coming on horses, chariots, carts, mules, camels, to Jerusalem to experience God’s glory? Isn’t that the American Dream? Isn’t that God’s Dream? Isn’t that what eternity will be?

CONCLUSION

Please God, all of us will get through the doors of death and enter the doors of heaven because we loved one another, because we worried about one another, we challenged one another, we fed the poor, and we cared about each other.

Please God when we appear at God’s door, we’ll meet the poor and those we helped and Christ will say from their mouths, “I knew you. I know where you’re coming from. Welcome.”

Amen.